


Taking Something More

by sixappleseeds



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/pseuds/sixappleseeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blue isn't going to let any old curse stop her from getting it on with Gansey. Written before BLLB's release. Blue's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Something More

  
  
“Have you ever thought about phone sex?”  
  
Gansey choked and almost drove the Pig off the road. “What?” he managed.  
  
Blue gripped the door handle, and was glad she’d worn her seatbelt.  “You heard me,” she said. Or she hoped he did, over the Camaro’s engine. She could feel herself blushing, but she’d spent the past five miles working up the fortitude to ask that question and she wasn’t sorry.  
  
Gansey clenched his hand on the gearshift. “I don’t know how to answer this question.”  
  
“Honestly,” Blue suggested.  
  
Gansey took a mile to think about that, and another to figure out what “honestly” looked like here. They were driving together because they both could be exactly what they felt like with each other, and that could be, they’d discovered, both calming and disquieting at the same time.  
  
“You mean,” he offered at last, “because you can’t kiss me? You mean in that way?”  
  
Blue was blushing again. “Yes,” she said.  
  
Gansey downshifted and gunned the Camaro around a blind turn. Blue had spent enough time with him recently to realize he sometimes spoke through his driving, like he and the Camaro would have a conversation, one he was letting her overhear if she just paid attention.  
  
“We couldn’t, though,” he said, frowning. “You don’t have a cell phone, or a separate line.”  
  
Blue rolled her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said. “I feel like you forget I have a brain, capable of simple planning.”  
  
Gansey rolled his own eyes at her, and smirked. “And sometimes,” he replied. “I feel like _you_ forget that I process my thoughts out loud.”  He reached over and brushed her knee, just once, quickly, before he had to shift again.  
  
Blue looked at Gansey’s phone. They’d been driving for about a half an hour. Her shift at Nino’s started in just over two hours. There would be time. There could be. She could make this happen.  
  
“How close are we to that place we almost ...”  _This is not the time to be prude, Blue Sargent_. “The place we didn’t kiss last month?”  
  
Gansey shot her a glance. “Not far, I think. Why?”  
  
“I have an idea.”  
  
“A plan?”  
  
“Maybe. It depends on what you think. There’s no pressure.”  She gripped the door again as Gansey made a sharp left at an intersection.  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
A short time later Gansey was navigating switchbacks on a narrow, pitted road. When the trees fell away and the valley of Henrietta appeared below, the leaves just beginning to turn from summer greens to autumn reds, he pulled off and killed the engine. Silence descended in the car, and in the distance Blue heard a woodpecker call over the wind. Gansey looked at her. She looked back. His mouth curved in a half smile, and he raised a brow. “Well, Jane? What’s your plan?”  
  
Blue glanced away, studying the way the sun dappled tree shadows across the Camaro’s hood. “I want something more,” she murmured. Louder she said, “I am tired of thinking about what I can’t do, and what I can’t have. I’ve known what I can’t have all my life. I want to find a way to take it anyway.”  
  
“Like,” Gansey started, and then cleared his throat. “Phone sex. In place of real sex.”  
  
“Like that,” Blue said. “And since I don’t have my own phone, I thought we could try it here. Fake it, kind of.” She glanced back at him. He was staring out the windshield. The breeze buffeted his hair, and he was worrying his thumb over his lower lip again.  When he turned to look at her, though, there was a spark in his eye that made her breath catch.  
  
“That seems,” he said, and now his smile was like a banked fire catching and flaring to life, “like a very sensible alternative.”  
  
.  
  
The back seat of the Pig was not a comfortable place, but Blue knew that already. She lay down so her head was resting behind the driver’s seat, and stretched her legs, one into the hood of the car, the other out the passenger side window. As she settled in, her skirt fell back and pooled over her torso.  
  
“Jesus, Blue,” Gansey breathed, still seated up front. “Just ... _Jesus_.”  He’d pressed his face into the headrest; she could just see the ends of his hair and his nose. She’d told him not to look at her - “It can’t be fake phone sex if we can see each other, Gansey” - and he wasn’t, but if he was looking out the passenger side window, Blue decided to let it slide.    
  
Blue flexed her toes. She’d left her shoes in the front seat, and now thought to herself, _Being sensible does not have to mean being boring_.  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.  
  
The driver seat rocked as Gansey shifted. “Do you have enough room?” he asked.  
  
“Probably,” Blue said.  
  
“Okay.” A little pause. “How do we start? Should I pretend to call you? Ask you what you’re wearing? I’ve never done this before.”  
  
Neither had Blue. But she’d spent the past several weeks stealing time on the computer at 300 Fox Way, meticulously researching the general topic and she had a few ideas. And while she knew she couldn’t keep any real secrets in a house full of psychics, she hoped the reason no one had said anything was because they were all letting her pretend that by deleting her search history she was covering her tracks, and not because they felt sorry for her.  
  
“Well,” she said, peering up at the Pig’s faded ceiling. “We could start this way.”  She rested her hands on her belly.  “If you could touch me right now, Gansey, would you?”  
  
“Yes.” His voice was a whisper. This thing they were trying felt so fragile, so insane, that Blue half expected Gansey to slam out of the car, like he did in this same spot a month ago, only this time Blue knew she’d never recapture this moment.  
  
Still:  
  
 _I want something more._  
  
 _So take it_.  
  
“Where?” she asked. “Where would you touch me?”  She adjusted her right arm so it lay over her pelvis; really, it was more comfortable that way.  
  
Gansey sighed, and the whole Camaro seemed to sigh with him. “Are you sure?” he said.  
  
“Yes,” she said.  
  
“Okay then,” he said. Blue began tracing her index finger over the skin below her belly button. It was not that she was unfamiliar with her body - she wasn’t - but touching herself at all in Gansey’s presence felt illicit, and thrilling.  
  
“Okay,” Gansey said again. Blue decided to imagine he sounded just a little breathless. “If I could touch you right now, Blue Sargent, I would -- I’d start with that spot just under your ear, because I’ve spent a long time wondering if it’s as soft as it looks.”  
  
Blue reached up and brushed the spot, right where her jaw met her ear. “It’s soft,” she murmured. What a place to notice! What a place to think about!  
  
“And I’d kiss you there first, to see if your pulse is as fast as mine.”  Now she knew he was breathless. But then, so was she.  
  
“It is,” she said. “It definitely is.”  
  
“Blue,” Gansey said, like suddenly he’d thought of something. “Where else?”  
  
“Hmm?” Blue had nudged her right hand lower, under the folds of her skirt, and was pressing lightly on her pubic bone.  
  
“Where else is your pulse pounding?”  
  
Blue flushed scarlet.  
  
Gansey shifted again, and the vinyl creaked as he slouched downward in the seat. He rested his head between the seat and the side of the car; Blue stared at the few inches of his neck exposed between his shirt collar and the neat line of his hair.  
  
“Tell me, Blue,” Gansey said. “Where else?”  
  
“My chest,” she said, stalling.  
  
“Is that it?” he whispered.  
  
“My -- my breasts,” she said. She reached up with her left hand and cupped her breast, and then rubbed her nails over the fabric so Gansey could hear her. “Yes,” she said. “Definitely here, too.”  Gansey groaned a little, and Blue, still blushing furiously, smiled.  
  
“Is that it?” he said again, and this time his voice was hoarse.  
  
“No,” she said.  She watched the back of Gansey’s head, watched the breeze ruffle his hair, and saw a few green leaves fall outside the Camaro’s window.  
  
“Where else, Blue?”  
  
She pressed her right hand between her bent knees, between her thighs, tight against her underwear, and felt her pulse pound there, too.  
  
“My cunt,” she breathed.  
  
“Aaah.” Gansey said it like a sigh, but his voice was so low by the end it sounded like a moan instead.  “ _Yesss_.”  
  
“Gansey,” Blue said. He made a little noise in response, and she continued, “I’m going to touch myself now.”  
  
“Please,” came Gansey’s voice from the front seat. Blue shut her eyes for a moment and marveled at that _please_ , how it was so unlike the breezy, confident Gansey she knew so well. He sounded raw, stripped of all the masks he wore, like something was burning inside him.  
  
“You can too, if you want,” she added generously, because she wanted to hear that, too.  
  
“Oh,” he said. She heard him shift again, and imagined him spreading his own knees wide. “Well, if you insist.” Now she heard the _clink_ of his belt buckle, the little purr of his zipper, and a rustle of clothing.  
  
“Are you?” she said. Blue was stroking herself through her underwear, back and forth. The fabric was already damp.  
  
“Yes,” Gansey replied. “Are you?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Tell me what you feel.”  
  
Blue adjusted her hips, and slid her hand beneath her underwear.  She let out a little sigh as she brushed her fingers over herself, and heard Gansey sigh in return. “I feel soft,” she murmured. “And warm, and,” she stroked her fingers down, and up again, “wet. Really wet.”  
  
“Jesus, Blue,” Gansey said. “That’s good, right? That’s good.” He sounded like he was panting, Blue thought. She turned her head to stare again at the back of his, and imagined his eyes were closed, and the column of his throat laid bare.  
  
“It’s good,” Blue replied. “And you?”  She further imagined pressing her own mouth to his jawline, and feeling his pulse pounding there. With her right hand, she stopped teasing herself and set to work.  
  
“Oh,” Gansey said. His voice was light and high. “Oh, I’m just swell, Jane.”  
  
Blue giggled. “Swell, are you?”  
  
“Perfectly,” Gansey responded, and she heard his smile.  
  
If this was another boy, Blue thought suddenly, she’d be in trouble. If this was anyone but Gansey, he could have run over her flimsy boundaries and taken what he’d wanted, and Blue knew that everyone would say, after, that she deserved it.  Blue didn’t want to think right now about what Gansey might deserve, but she was grateful that her trust in him was well-placed.  
  
“I’m imagining your fingers on me,” Blue murmured.  
  
“Hmm,” Gansey said. “I’m imagining my mouth on you.”  
  
“Oh!” She hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. She immediately set about remedying this. “That sounds nice.”  
  
“Jane.”  Gansey sounded smug, if still a little breathless. “If I’m kissing your - your _cunt_ \- it will be a lot better than nice.”  
  
“Will it?”  Blue could begin to see it. Gansey’s head between her thighs did indeed seem far better than simply _nice_. She rubbed herself harder. “Tell me.”  
  
“Ah. Well. I’d kiss you softly at first, on your hips and then your thighs, and then I’d,” Blue heard him swallow, “spread you open wide, see this glorious afternoon sunlight shine all over you.”    
  
Blue moaned a little: the idea of being so open in so much daylight, under Gansey’s quiet gaze, made her shudder.  “I’m close,” she murmured, and it sounded like a warning.  
  
“Are you?” Gansey murmured back. She heard his breath hitch. He dropped his left arm down between the seat and the door. “Hold onto me,” he said.  She gripped his hand in her own, while the fingers of her other hand pressed and rubbed and teased her clit.  
  
“And then,” he continued. “I’ll kiss you, right at your center, and taste all that wetness, taste you, and suck your clitoris until you scream.”    
  
Blue arched her hips and panted, “ _Oh_. Yes, yes please.” Gansey held her hand tight, and rubbed little circles with his thumb across her skin. She tried to transfer that feeling across her body, and let her hips rock in time with her fingers. She realized she was whimpering, small sounds with every breath, and she didn't try to stop.  
  
“And while I’m sucking at your clit,” Gansey continued, his voice so low Blue had to strain to hear him. “I’ll slide one finger, and then another, deep inside of you, slowly -- so slowly --”  
  
Blue cried out as her orgasm hit, slamming into her like a wave she rode, and rode, until it was done, until she was nothing but trembling aftershocks. Finally she rested her fingers, and relaxed her grip on Gansey’s hand. He squeezed back gently. She was surprised to notice she was covered in sweat.  
  
After a few moments’ silence, Gansey said, “Are your fingers wet?”  
  
She supposed they were.  She flexed them gingerly. “Yes.”  
  
“Will you suck them clean for me, Blue? Will you let me hear you do it? I’m so close...”  
  
A favor, returned.  “Yes,” she said again. Gansey held her hand tighter, and adjusted his posture in front of her. The seat back pressed briefly into her shoulder, and she turned to rest her forehead against it. Her left arm was falling asleep, but she could ignore it for a little while.  She licked the fingers of her right hand, and tasted -- herself. She mentally catalogued it as _weird, but not bad at all_.  
  
It was actually, Blue realized, more difficult to be quiet while sucking one’s fingers clean than it was to be noisy. She didn’t try to be quiet. Gansey’s breath was coming in little staccato moans, and he held her hand tightly. She took the opportunity to brush her own thumb across the back of his hand.  Suddenly his whole arm - his whole body - went stiff, and he shouted once before collapsing back against the seat. His hand was limp in hers. She could hear him panting, only now it sounded as if he’d just run uphill.  
  
After several moments of this, she shifted around. “Gansey?”  
  
“Yeah, Jane?”  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
He huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I’m fine and dandy. Just give me a minute here.”  
  
In that minute, Blue re-arranged her skirt, rubbed the life back into her arm and legs, and re-adjusted the clips in her hair.  Her idea had worked. She’d gotten what she wanted. But what came after? She wasn't sure.  
  
Gansey rummaged in the glove compartment for some spare napkins, and zipped himself up again. Then he got out of the car. Blue’s heart stopped for a moment, until he slid the seat forward and said, “Come on.”  She scrambled out too.  
  
They stood for a full minute, looking at one another. Blue wasn’t sure what Gansey saw in her, but she saw a sheepish kind of smile and a warmness in Gansey’s eyes that made her heart kick all over again.  He held out a hand.  
  
“May I give you a hug?” he asked.  
  
Blue smiled. “Yes,” she said, and stepped into his arms.  
  
“That was wonderful,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of her head.  “I find I admire that kind of sensibility, Jane.”  
  
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Blue said, pressing her nose into the collar of Gansey’s shirt.  Then she pulled back.  “But if you say, ‘ _And we never speak of this again_ ,’ I swear I will punch you in the face.”  
  
Gansey laughed. “Of course,” he said, grinning. “I promise I will say no such thing.”  
  
“Good,” Blue said, and tucked her head against his shoulder.  
  
As the day descended towards sunset, Blue and Gansey looked out across the valley, and watched the street lights in Henrietta slowly blink to life.  
  
  
  



End file.
